Imagine your pastor tells you about an investment that could grow your savings while helping the church and community. You already trust him for spiritual guidance; now he says God has chosen you for this opportunity. Would you ask for financial statements – or feel reassured that someone you know is offering you a way in?
Federal prosecutors say a pastor in Washington state turned that trust into a fundraising tool, collecting at least $13 million through investments and loans. Investors who challenged his account allegedly found their spiritual condition questioned instead: He accused them of demonic possession. His case illustrates that sometimes, a financial scam comes from someone you already trust.
Promises from the Pulpit
Cristian Popescu was the pastor of Passion for Christ church in Kirkland, Washington. But his pitch to investors centered on a separate venture: his Bellevue company, Followone Inc.
The October 7 indictment traces the alleged fraud scheme back to at least July 2015. Popescu described Followone as a place to socialize online and conduct business across markets ranging from automobiles to property. More than 30 people provided money, according to prosecutors; some belonged to his congregation.
For prospective investors, the supposed rewards went beyond their own finances. Popescu allegedly claimed divine instructions to put business profits toward helping others, with an emphasis on children and older adults. He also repeatedly portrayed a Nasdaq debut as imminent, promising investors a substantial financial upside. Prosecutors say he encouraged them to finance their participation through home-equity borrowing and money set aside for retirement or college.
The government’s account describes a sharp gap between that pitch and the underlying business. Followone allegedly had no revenue or ability to complete purchases and sales. Instead, its pages featured vehicle data bought from an outside provider and property listings drawn from another service. Investors checking their holdings online saw purported values calculated using an inflated company valuation that reached $1.4 billion.
Per the indictment, over $4.5 million left Followone for Popescu’s own bank accounts. Prosecutors also allege that he directed company funds toward personal securities trading and used about $1 million to pay his credit card bills. They say the people who supplied the money were left with little or none of their investment.
Popescu pleaded not guilty on October 13 in U.S. District Court in Seattle to 10 counts of wire fraud and five counts of money laundering.
When Trust Becomes Leverage
That alleged use of community ties has a name: affinity fraud. The Securities and Exchange Commission explains that scammers can exploit connections within congregations, ethnic communities, professional associations, and groups of older adults. Military communities can also be targeted. The common ingredient is shared trust—not any particular belief or background.
The person making the pitch may be an insider or may enlist someone whose standing opens doors within the group. That intermediary need not know anything is wrong; they may have been deceived, too. A familiar person’s endorsement is therefore not independent confirmation that an investment is sound. Close relationships can also discourage reporting. The SEC notes that people may seek an internal solution rather than involve regulators or law enforcement.
Red Flags to Look For
None of this means a faith-based business is necessarily fraudulent. The concern is whether shared beliefs replace independent scrutiny. The Popescu allegations offer several examples of what that can look like.
First, examine whether the pitch promises both easy access to your money and unusually large rewards. Popescu allegedly assured certain investors that their funds would be kept apart and available whenever requested, even as he promoted the potential windfall from a stock-market listing. The SEC warns against offers combining exceptional returns with supposedly minimal risk.
Next, don’t confuse appearances with verification. Prosecutors describe an upscale office and senior-sounding job titles that helped give Followone an air of credibility. Some investors allegedly earned a board title by contributing enough money, yet could neither examine the company’s finances nor exercise meaningful oversight. The takeaway? Look beyond the office décor and job titles to understand how the business operates and where your money goes.
And distinguish confidentiality from an inability to ask questions. According to the indictment, Popescu insisted on secrecy agreements and encrypted communications, and required phones to be switched off for in-person discussions. Confidential business information is not inherently suspicious, but investors should be wary when secrecy prevents meaningful review or outside advice.
Before committing money, investigate the proposed investment separately from the person recommending it. Washington’s Department of Financial Institutions recommends checking licensing, obtaining written information, and refusing to be rushed. Investors can contact its securities staff for help checking the seller and the offering.
If something appears wrong, you do not have to rely on fellow members of your community to resolve it. Suspected fraud can be reported to Washington DFI or, outside Washington, the appropriate state securities regulator.
Faith Doesn’t Require a Blank Check
Back to Popescu: December 21 is the scheduled trial date. He denies the charges and retains the presumption of innocence.
But the broader lesson does not depend on the verdict: Sharing someone’s faith is not the same as verifying their financial claims. Asking questions about an investment is due diligence – not disloyalty.
